Manifest
by Ujon Nocturne
Summary: The hougyoku has existed a very long time, and though it sleeps, it has both displayed and witnessed immense power. Is it so impossible for it to develop a consciousness of its own? Specifically, when a certain blue-haired Espada is bleeding before it?
1. Prologue

**Manifest**

by** Ujon Nocturne**

Disclaimer: Bleach and all things related to it found here are owned by Kubo Tite. Any similarities with other creations are unintended and purely coincidental. Plot line, original characters, and everything else non-canonical belongs to me.

* * *

Manifest © Ujon 2oo9 - 01/31/09

* * *

Author's Notes:

First of all, I know not everyone entirely appreciates OCs (let alone OC pairings) but I assure you that you won't be disappointed. I'm not much of a fluff artist, nor of crack, and though I am into romance, this won't be one of those fall-head-over-heels-in-love-you-changed-my-world kind of fic. I've got a great plot in store for this one, and it would mean the world to me if you gave this a chance. And since this is just the prologue, I promise you that you'll be getting a lot more action later. 3

Okay, what to expect? Well, the story generally takes place after Grimm-chan gets beaten up, but we're saving the good parts about the war for later. I really love Grimm-chan, and since there weren't really any confirmations about his downfall, I decided he'd be alive at least here. There will be an insanely powerful OC in there, so keep your eyes peeled! Also, a little warning of Character Death.

Much love, and thanks for reading!

**EDIT****:**

-[Tried to] fix[ed] the unseen horizontal line breaks. First chapter is coming up!

-Fixed the thing about Aizen's eyes.

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G E N R E | Mystery / Romance

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Prologue |

Life was transient, fear was abundant, and death was inevitable. Once one process occurs, then so must the other—there was no breaking the chain of existence and non-so. When there is life, death shall come. When there is death, birth restores. In between, there is fear—an instinct that exists to prolong that which is born, and postpone that which is due: the end of all things that begin.

The power to control, the power to change, to pull the strings of existence itself and rearrange the fabric of reality into a weaving of one's liking—all that and knowledge absolute—lay dormant in the sleeping vessel that was but a mere stone. It was truly a dangerous object, and any man would be wise to destroy it. It possessed power so immense that no logical man would ever hope to control it, let alone try without the guarantee of a most painful death at failing.

How long ago was it when _it _had been first created? That precious little stone of immeasurable power, the very one that had caused havoc in Soul Society not too long ago, and had by now ultimately made the chaos the wicked sought after possible?

_The hougyoku_.

It was the ultimate beacon, it was of power absolute. It made what would otherwise be perceived as impossible, possible. It possessed the ability to create something out of nothing. It could manipulate countless souls in every way imaginable. But for something so valuable, it was awfully small and terribly fragile. It was asleep, but it was quickly awakening. Who'd have thought it could… perhaps… have a soul of its own?

After existing for so long, it was difficult not to develop even the slightest bit of a conscience on its own. It was born with too much power, a mistake that unfortunately was indestructible while at the same time capable of causing massive destruction at full potency. It had fallen into the wrong hands, and had been taken and forced to do the bidding of a madman while still in its dormant state. To blur the line between Shinigami and Hollow, perhaps even erase it completely, and ultimately conceiving the Arrancar.

As a stone, it was that possibility.

Manifest into a body of innocence and monstrosity both at the same time, and everything is ultimately changed.

Aizen stood amidst the dark, windowless enclosure, motionless as stone, his hard brown eyes impassive as he stared at the glowing object lying innocently upon the stone pillar before him. The war was over, and though Soul Society had seemed to have lost, that was not entirely the case. The enemy lost many good soldiers that day, but so did their own army.

On any account, there was no winner here. As the ex-Shinigami Captain stared down at his main source of power, his deceptive eyes began to disappear into the shadows of his hair. They had crippled Soul Society beyond repair, immobilized their defense and taken out their Commander General. More arrancars survived than shinigami. All was won, at first glance. But he knew better.

Only, he figured things out a little too late.

As he stood there, brooding, his calm demeanor quickly deteriorating, the walls around him began to crumble under the pure weight of his infuriated reiatsu.

How could he have not realized it sooner?

His perfectly formulated plan was _foiled_ by something so simple! It was so sudden, so unforeseeable, and so trivial that none would even think of the possibility. And yet here it was, wasting all his efforts at the most _opportune_ moment.

The gathering of the Espada, the capture of the four captains of the Gotei 13, the defeat of Soul Society's army. All of that, for nothing. All of that wasted. All his effort gone. All because of one single fact, one little fact that his all-seeing eyes had missed.

_The hougyoku…_

His clenched fists steadily began turning white beneath his robes, a minute trembling of rage that could be felt by only the groaning ground at his feet.

…_had a crack_.

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Author's Notes:

That's all for now! I apologize that it's short, and I'm sorry for all the poetic mumbo jumbo at the top. Ehehe, I don't know what got into me. I suppose it just rightfully suits the introduction at the moment. I haven't been able to write any poetry since school got out, so I guess that's got a bit to do with it as well.

In any case, tell me what you think! Don't worry, it gets better! Like I said, I've got a good plot up my sleeve. I won't disappoint you. I have it written down already, so it looks like I'll be having the first chapter up real soon to compensate!

Rate and Review, anyone? Thanks!

Your authoress,

Ujon


	2. 1: Moment of Wake

**Manifest**

by **Ujon Nocturne**

Disclaimer: Bleach and all things related to it found here are owned by Kubo Tite. Any similarities with other creations are unintended and purely coincidental. Plot line, original characters, and everything else non-canonical belongs to me.

* * *

Manifest © Ujon 2oo9 - 01/31/09

* * *

Author's Notes:

Alright, now we're onto the real story! I've been looking stuff up, and I've reread some of the manga chapters, and found out that Grimm-chan's current state is yet to be confirmed. This fic will sort of start off with that, because we all love our favorite sexta kitty. xD So anyway, if you have any suggestions, or any questions, feel free to leave me a message. I'd love to hear from you.

Ah, and yeah, my first attempt at Bleach. It's a little AU, and then there's my lovely little OC, but I promise you won't be disappointed! Enjoy the story!

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Chapter One | Moment of Wake

_I'm… not dead?_

Grimmjow opened his sapphire eyes to a familiar darkness. All was quiet as he gradually came to, but somehow he knew that this calm silence did not belong to Las Noches. Let alone to Hueco Mundo. It was different from the bone-chilling void of that which he hated to call home. Added to that, the numbing cold that encased him was both familiar and not, but leaning slightly to the latter. The low temperature was… more _bearable_ at a significant extent. Weaker, even.

Then again, almost everything around him felt _weaker_, very much unlike Hueco Mundo. And he has lived there many ages enough to know what kind of atmosphere the place so graciously offered. That meant he was elsewhere. But this "elsewhere" was no stranger to him either.

Grimmjow was in _the human world_.

The night was dark, and hanging in the air was a distinct, biting cold. Winter. That was what it usually indicated; the bitter end of a year. But for him, this time would have been more significant, _should _have been more significant. The Winter War. But then what the hell was he doing _here_? And where exactly _was_ here? And _what_ the hell was happening now? The Espada hastily threw himself up into a seat, only then noticing that he was lying on a bed. A soft one, at that. With that, he began to notice other things as well.

Cold sweat beaded his forehead, and his skin felt damp and clammy. His breathing was labored, and each breath he took felt like hundreds of thorns scraping at the flesh of his throat. The pain beyond that, however, took him by surprise. Grimmjow suddenly began coughing violently as he sat up, fire agonizingly ripping up his throat. He brought his fingers around his neck, eyes wide and bloodshot as it finally stopped.

"Lie down," suddenly came a stranger's voice, and the Espada quickly whipped his head in the direction of the sound, startled for the most part. Though, he was met by nothing. Just the blackness of a pitch night, and an unnerving emptiness that came along with it. The room was eerily dark for a human room. And quiet. The human's voice, other than it didn't belong to anyone he recognized, was higher by an octave or so, which meant it belonged to a woman—no,—a girl.

Well, that was… weird. Her voice was distorted. It sounded as if she were speaking to him from underwater. Nevertheless, he could still make out some of her words, Somewhat. To an extent. He hadn't realized it was his own mind's inability to be coherent that caused the distortion. No matter. He had some answers to get. Grimmjow parted his lips to say something, but the other beat him to it.

"You are in no condition to speak," were her stern words, "let alone move around. Lie down."

Surprised, Grimmjow merely sat there as he realized the girl was right. He couldn't speak. And though he was sure there was none, his mouth tasted like blood. Rust. Venom. That was when the full blow of all his raw injuries came—of the screaming of his strained bones, of his bruised and battered flesh. The fire burned across his whole body, and yet, the pain made him feel _whole_. He hadn't been whole for… too long. It was a wonder he remembered what it even felt like. Beside all the agonizing pain.

Before he could ponder on it any further, however, the sensation peaked sharply. He curled into himself and groaned, clutching at the searing ache in his chest. It was unbearable, even for him. Like nothing before. He couldn't explain it; he wouldn't accept it. But it was there. The pain made him need to scream, but his pride willed him to swallow it back. There was no way in hell he'd let that happen. He was Grimmjow Jeaguerjaques, for crying out loud! A little collateral damage wasn't something he couldn't handle.

…who was he kidding? Everything hurt like there was no tomorrow. Just breathing was hard; he was suffocating.

His bones felt heavy, strained, torn. Moving in the slightest seemed like the stupidest thing in the world. He was tough, that was a given, beyond normal. For him to be in this much pain—in such a way that he couldn't even move—could only mean he'd sustained near-life-threatening damage. But, oddly enough, nothing was broken. His wounds were still relatively fresh in comparison, as well. And he wasn't even bleeding. How long had passed, exactly?

"You stopped bleeding an hour ago," came the girl's words, as if sensing his unvoiced question. A soft hand pressed against the young man's chest, as if to gently push him down. Though that wouldn't have done much of anything, he didn't resist, and followed the motion. As he was released, he compliantly laid back down. Grimmjow could feel the blood throbbing in his skull, making his head spin and his senses groggy. The feel was sickening, but laying flat on his back toned it down a little. There was no way to avoid the agony should he move, so he couldn't move. He was completely helpless.

_Damn it._

The hand moved across his head, gently brushing away the hair that had clung to his clammy forehead and just laying there. "Your fever's going down." She stepped away. "Rest for now," were the kind voice's instructions, interrupting his thoughts. She continued. "At least until you are more able. I'll come back to check on you later."

Though his senses were still quickly deteriorating, Grimmjow could faintly hear the girl's footsteps gradually disappearing into the distance that, he imagined, was most likely shorter than it seemed. Without really thinking, the sexta Espada let his throat raggedly choke out his voice, stopping her just as a sheet of light burst against her faceless silhouette.

"Get better," the young one swiftly cut off, turning her head towards the open door. She stopped for a moment, the movement of her lips her only visible feature to the man that was helplessly slipping into unconsciousness. The nameless, faceless girl spoke. Voice pleading, bearing tension and uncalled for sadness. Words meaning more than was meant by sound.

Though she could no longer be heard. From the bed there came only the slow rhythmic breathing brought about by sleep. He was already completely out. The door closed with a soft _click_, the light disappearing beyond. And the girl, with it.

* * *

Shaded, watchful eyes observed the small, stark white apartment from a distance. The massive flare of reiatsu indicated that the slumbering guest had awoken, but only for a moment. It was much subtler now, to which the shady figure gave a sigh of relief. It had been days, and for a good long while it didn't seem like he ever would wake up. Now that he had, how was he to consider this situation?

The cold, night wind blew the man's coat from his perch upon the rooftop, a hand clamped over his head to keep his bucket hat in place. His silhouette outlined with the moonlight, Urahara Kisuke stood brooding as he watched the tiny blot of lilac emerge from the glass doors to the balcony. His usually merry eyes sharpened into a hard, unreadable stare. It wasn't quite a glare, but it was getting there.

Though the small figure was hardly distinguishable—and the midnight fog didn't really help—he could easily tell that the blob was a girl. By the way she moved across the terrace, the way she swung her legs over the banister back and forth. Like a lonely child playing in the summer. It was cold out, but it didn't seem to bother her. Such a strange sight in this cold winter night. With a small, audible sigh he turned around, pushing his hat further down to cover his eyes.

In all his years, trying to destroy it had seemed impossible. Though he had tried his best to keep it hidden, had already foreseen the possibility of it being stolen away from him. That already happened. What he hadn't expected, however, was _this._ Now this was not something anyone could have _ever_ expected. But here it was. It had landed right back in his hands, but not as he had expected. Something had seriously gone wrong, and he had no other choice but to step up and take responsibility.

"Guess it can't be helped, now, huh?" he murmured to himself idly, throwing one last glance in her direction. He could almost see her vacant expression, when she suddenly stopped…and stared right at him. Though startled slightly, he held her gaze for a few moments, wondering if she knew, when she abruptly looked away and resumed swinging her legs back and forth, as if nothing happened at all. This made the older man grin, and he himself turned away, wooden sandals clicking against the roof. Then he mumbled, as an afterthought, before he disappeared into the night air. "Such a strange girl."

And he, of all people, should know.

* * *

The blue-haired sexta Espada had, after some time, finally succeeded at regaining his senses. After which, he'd refused to be consumed by sleep since. He lay awake in bed, thick cotton quilts keeping him warm from the harsh weather outside. Grimmjow started flexing his fingers beneath the sheets, feeling a little more control slip into his grasp. Though the pain was yet to disappear completely, it was more bearable now. He could move his hands, then his forearms, and now his shoulders. The thick blankets rustled as his movements grew underneath them.

"Are you awake?" came the girl's again sudden, but now familiar, voice. Her words were small, toneless, and yet still hinted with concern. The young man's eyes flew in the direction of the sound. He hadn't noticed any doors or windows open or close, and there was absolutely no sound other than his rasped breathing until then.

Was she in the room the whole time?

"Where the hell am I?" was the man's vicious growl, his voice huskier with the enflamed throat. The taste of blood, albeit barely, was definitely still there.

"I see it's easier for you to speak now," remarked the girl softly, deliberately ignoring his rudeness without missing a beat. The sounds he heard indicated that she had stood, and had begun to pace across the carpeted floor. Towards a wall, it seemed, as he heard her hand against its surface. His senses were coming back just nicely. Only a matter of time now before he could get out of here and finally attend to some _unfinished business_ with a certain orange-haired punk of a Shinigami.

"Would you mind if I turned on the lights?"

The young man glared in the voice's direction wordlessly, soundlessly.

"Your treatment is incomplete."

Grunting, Grimmjow tore his eyes away from the faint silhouette, letting his tired eyelids fall shut. "Do as you like."

_Click!_

Bright, pure white spread across the room in an instant. Grimmjow scowled at it for a moment, unused to the brightness. Though, it did remind him of Las Noches. Spotless walls of white. As his vision adjusted itself to the blaring light, he heard the faceless girl start walking towards him. Then, quicker than he'd anticipated, she was standing beside the bed. Still faceless, merely a flurry of… well, there wasn't really any color.

What appeared to be the shape of a small hand then reached down into of his field of sight, seemingly about to touch him, but it stopped just inches before his skin, and eventually recoiled completely.

"Can you sit up?" was the girl's polite inquiry. "Do you need assistance?"

Making a sound of disgust, Grimmjow squeezed his eyes shut and pushed himself up on his elbows. Difficultly. And though it was painful, he barely grimaced. His ice blue eyes slowly lifted open, glaring directly at the wall in front of him. No movement for the head, he quickly decided. He could still feel the liquid sloshing about inside his skull.

"Does it hurt?"

Grimmjow hated being underestimated, and though perhaps that was not in the stranger's intentions, being offered help like this just _pissed_ the Espada off. _No one_ looked down upon the _King_.

"Is it too much?"

A snarl already ripping through his throat, he drew back an arm and turned to her, preparing to strike. When he caught her eye, however, his body just stopped. He couldn't make a sound, and for a moment, his control slipped out of his grasp. Everything began to spin, rapidly getting more and more out of focus. A loud ringing began screaming in his head, subduing the man in incredible pain. He quickly turned away, only making it worse, and he grunted as he reached up and grabbed the sides of his head. He groaned loudly through clenched teeth, breathing violently.

_I said no moving, damn it! _He berated himself internally, suppressing the grimace forming on his features. Though he failed, and the girl was quick to assist him. She was saying something now, but her words were back to being an incomprehensible slur. No, now it was worse than before. Whoever she was, whatever she was saying, she was worried. He could at least catch that in her voice. And that wasn't good. _Idiot._

"_Llloolkkkttatttmmmee,_" was all the disoriented man could hear, the sounds overlapping each other and slurring into the next. "_Ll-lllooolookkookkat ata attme mmeee._"

Grimmjow could just barely feel a slight weight against the sides of his head, keeping them there. It was dark, but small splotches of color still twinkled and spun before his eyes. The girl's voice came again, stern, and he could slightly make out some of the words now. "_Cccooonnceeentrraaattte. Oopp-ppenn yo-yyoouuur ee-eeeyes aaandd llookk aaatt-tt mm-meee._" It was only then that he realized that he _had_ shut his eyes, and with some effort, he lifted his heavy lids open.

Everything then slowly fell into place, and the first thing Grimmjow saw was the young woman's face in front of his. Watching him attentively, pensively, the concern subtly displayed on her face as she held his head in place. Her straight, platinum-lilac hair draped just past her shoulders, her complexion milky of untouched softness. And her big, bright eyes were a pair more radiant than the most precious ruby gems—a lustrous red, like infinite pools of blood. It gave away all her otherwise stoic expression masked. But there Grimmjow couldn't find the screaming fear everyone that's come close to him possessed. He found anxiety, even relief, and something else he couldn't understand. If she wasn't afraid of him, what was she afraid of? There was fear alright, but not of him… _for his well being? _She was practically half his size, and she looked so meek and defenseless just seated there that the Espada knew that he could kill her even in his broken state.

That was when he noticed that there was not even the slightest trace of reiatsu from where the girl lay, completely taking him off-guard. That couldn't be right. She shouldn't be able to sense him, let alone touch him. Her soul should have been crushed under the mere presence of he, the Sexta Espada—the sixth strongest Arrancar in all of Hueco Mundo—alone. And yet now he could only stare, a hard scowl set firm in his confused features.

The girl merely stared back evenly, watching him briefly, before finally closing her eyes again. He didn't catch the breath of relief she took before speaking again. "You mustn't force yourself to move if it hurts," she said gently, slowly pulling back away from him. Ah. That was all she meant. Grimmjow wasn't supposed to feel bad for misunderstanding. She turned away and stood. "I will come back another time." And she began to take her leave.

…when Grimmjow suddenly grabbed hold of her wrist, carefully, with a hand that could so easily break apart some of the most powerful Shinigami of Soul Society without even trying. Her eyes widened with surprise for about a second, before she immediately recollected herself, but the man's eyes were keen enough to pick even _that_ up. Along with how her muscles had tensed at contact. She looked at him questioningly, and he glared up at her.

"Who," he managed heavily, ice blue eyes piercing right through her flame red orbs, "the _hell_ are you?" He was not growling. He was not yelling. But that was definitely enough to get at least some kind of reaction from the girl. His quiet, unwavering tone. She frowned for a moment, still staring at him, just watching like she had been for quite some time now. Then the frown smoothed back into her silent demeanor, and she turned her gaze down to his hold on her. He wasn't letting her go without getting some answers, and she closed her eyes.

"Kiyoi Shizuka," she introduced herself tonelessly, never forgetting her manners and offering him a curt nod. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Shizuka didn't move to pull her wrist away, even though she probably could have judging by the strange man's bad condition. "I found you a few nights ago." Instead, she just looked at him, her bright crimson eyes unnervingly nonchalant. "You were broken, so I fixed you."

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Author's Notes:

Awesome, we're down to the first chapter. I'd love to know what you think about it thus far. So… readers, you review the story, ne? No sneaky-sneaky. And nobody worry, 'cause there ain't gonna be any Mary Sues in this fanfic, I assure you. Just… I dunno, I'm gonna stay a little clean with the language. I'm a minor. xD

Thanks to Arrancar13, by the way, for my first review! I'm glad you liked it. I'll keep it coming in as steady as I can. I've already some of the second chapter written, so it should come around soon. So everybody just stick around, aigh't?

Thanks for reading. Please Rate & Review!

Your authoress,

Ujon Nocturne


	3. 2: Madness

**Manifest**

by **Ujon Nocturne**

Disclaimer: Bleach and all things related to it found here are owned by Kubo Tite. Any similarities with other creations are unintended and purely coincidental. Plot line, original characters, and everything else non-canonical belongs to me.

* * *

Manifest © Ujon 2oo9 - 01/31/09

* * *

Author's Notes:

Second chapter, up! The story's going to be starting off as a little laid back, but you'll be getting in on the action pretty soon. I'll be introducing these two in properly first before moving to the aftermath of the war.

* * *

Chapter Two | Madness

Shizuka had pulled apart the long dark curtains and pushed open the tall, black windows before she left the room. It was still dark outside, and it was raining. The morning cool blew into the room and against his face, the scent and flavor of dawn fresh and mild. Grimmjow just lay there, dully watching the drops of rain fall and spatter against the obsidian windowsill. He looked bored, more than anything. But subtle traces of both agitation and pain hung about the perma-scowl on his forehead. His mind still wandered to his conversation with the girl he woke up to, and the answers she had given him.

Or rather, her lack thereof.

* * *

_When she'd told him she found him, Grimmjow immediately snapped, and had begun yelling. He couldn't see how he'd end up in the human world, of all places, in the midst of a war. She couldn't have just __**found**__ him lying around, let alone pick him up and take him to her room. It didn't make any sense. Hell, the picking up part was crazy enough, but bringing someone like him, a complete stranger no less, into their room? That was just friggin' stupid. Hilarious, but stupid. At some point, with what strength he could endure, he'd grabbed the girl by her collar and began barking death threats at her. Demanding answers, the truth. But her answer remained the same, and she would say the same thing with that same look on her face._

"_I don't know," she'd told him quietly, her gaze firmly holding his own, "I just found you."_

_After some more futile yelling, all the man got was an empty stare and a ragged throat. The girl was lucky he wasn't himself that day. Otherwise, he'd have Cero'd her pretty little head clean off her shoulders by then. Hell, with what little power he still had in him, he would have at that moment. Well, he should have, but he didn't. Instead, he let himself get distracted by the question that suddenly popped into his head, replacing his confused rage with plain curiosity, and knocking some sense into his hazy slash morbid thoughts. Which he voiced, __**very**__ uncharacteristically quietly before he even realized he was speaking out loud._

"_Where'd you find me?"_

_The girl noticeably froze at the question, and she remained quiet for one long moment. Slowly, a small frown crept into her features. In a while, she closed her eyes, as if in pain more than in concentration, but still made no sound. Beside her, Grimmjow watched blankly, digging through his memories in search of his own answers. What had happened exactly, back at Hueco Mundo? Back at Las Noches? He was beaten, he knew, by that punk of a Shinigami, Kurosaki Ichigo. And that bastard Nnoitra came along to finish him off, but failed when the same man who defeated him suddenly decided to protect him. And then he was left there, on the sand, all but forgotten. The last thing he saw was the fake sky Aizen had created for the Arrancar, that sun-shiny sky of Las Noches._

_But then what? Did he live? Did he die? Or did he just go mad? What could have possibly led to him being dumped in the human world? Was he even still himself? Frustrated, Grimmjow quickly sorted through the facts. No, he didn't die. It didn't end with that phony sky. Something happened after that, but what? All he got was a blank. A great, retardedly white blank. _Damn it!

_There was something else. He knew that it alone would answer every question that popped into his head. Distorted sounds, a flurry of colors in a burst of light, and a pain that rooted deep in his bones and spread torturously slow into every crevice of his body. His voice was already stolen by that pain by then, and he couldn't even scream when he wanted to. Okay, though the first parts were too vague to be considered a memory, the sensation of it all was a little too vivid for him to be just imagining it. In fact, he could almost taste it burning his tongue the more he thought back to it. Grimmjow caught his head in his hand, his eyes wide and confused. That wasn't right. None of it was. What the hell… really happened?_

"_I… can't remember."_

_Startled, for the most part, the Espada turned his gaze to the girl that had voiced his thoughts. She stared right back at him, her blood red eyes showing the man what she was seeing in his own—fear._

_The girl was quick to dismiss it, however, and had instead hung her head in apology. Shizuka fled from the room after that, and hadn't been back since. Well, she had excused rather politely on that account, but she was still lightning quick about it. She'd told him that she'd continue treatment on him later, and that she would be coming back soon._

_Grimmjow didn't ask any more questions. He still didn't know exactly how long had passed since she found him, or if the war was still even the war. It most likely wasn't—it wouldn't last this long. One side was bound to win against the other, and right now, did he even want to know which did? He didn't bother anymore. It seemed that each question he asked just added another, anyway. Everything just made everything else worse. So for now he let it go, and let the rain falling outside wash everything away and clear his spinning thoughts._

_It was all giving him a headache, anyway._

* * *

The rain was falling harder now.

Silently, the door opened, and the strange, lilac-haired girl walked into the room. Grimmjow rolled his eyes over to peer at her fragile form, his head still lazily leaning against the window frame as he watched her stroll inside. In her arms she carried a basin of water, some cloth, and bandages. Just as promised. He looked away, and stared at the puddles of water on the grey pavement down below.

"I'm going to have to remove the bandages now," she informed him plainly, setting the basin aside on top of a black wooden desk. "Is that alright?"

Grimmjow didn't say anything as he turned to face the girl. He swung his legs across the edge of the bed, propping his elbows on his knees as if he wasn't hurt at all. It did hurt, still, and it didn't seem like that pain planned on going away any time soon. She knew this, and looked questioningly at the man. He didn't look at her, and instead scowled his bored scowl at the far wall to the side.

"Do it quick," he ordered, his voice low.

Heaving an inward sigh, Shizuka closed her eyes and nodded. Then, moving carefully, she placed her hands over the soiled bandages wrapped around the man's torso. Gingerly, she peeled off a strip, and as she unwound the maroon-tainted cloth off of him, Grimmjow squeezed his eyes shut.

It stung. No, it burned. The more the bandage peeled off his skin, the rawer he felt; exposed. It was as if it was his flesh peeling off rather than the cloth, and though he knew the girl was doing it as swiftly as she could, the whole process seemed to take long. He gave a slight hiss of pain, bowing his head lower as cold sweat began to dampen his forehead.

_Damn it_, he thought to himself, too much in pain to speak, _what the hell happened to me?_

"Do you have a name?" she suddenly asked, to which she received a glare. She didn't remove her attention from her work, her hands steady as she removed the bottom layer of the wrap. When he didn't respond, after a while, she stopped and looked at him. "I gave you mine. It's only fair that you gave me yours."

That… was true. He took a deep breath, and stared the girl in the eyes with his hard blue orbs. He figured he owed her that much. He turned away, unable to mask the ache any longer. "Grimmjow," he said after a moment, "Grimmjow Jagguerjaques."

"Grimmjow." She seemed to ponder at this for a moment, letting the foreign flavor of its sound acquaint itself with her. Then her hands began to move again. "How strange."

The Espada made a disgruntled sound, and was about to make a retort when the girl suddenly stepped away to pick up the cloth, soaking it in the basin of water beside them. He growled, but her back was to him, so the glare treatment wasn't really going to work even if he did.

"Don't ask if you're just going to make fun of it, you stupid girl!" he wanted to yell, but his voice just didn't quite come out. And though instinct told him to bash her head in, just because he could, didn't. He'd already decided he wouldn't hurt her. He owed her, after all. Besides, it was difficult to raise his voice even a little, so instead, he just listened as she squeezed the excess water from the damp cloth.

…Wow.

Never once, in all his years as a Hollow, did even the mere memory of it cross his mind. It had been a while since he last even thought of water. The eternal desserts of Hueco Mundo were void of all traces of it. To hear it now… in her hands and from the rain… those liquid sounds.

_The sound of water._ It was… nostalgic.

Shizuka turned to him then, their eyes connecting for a brief moment, before very carefully she began dabbing the towel across his torso. Her eyes scrutinized the three particular places right at his chest, the three long slices that till now wouldn't stop bleeding. The cuts were deep, and each time the wind blew he felt the slices freshen over again. She felt herself wince as she dragged over them, her hand just staying there to absorb some of the still slightly spilling blood. Beside her, so did he, as the white in her hands slowly began to turn red.

"It's nice," she suddenly said, calling the man's attention. _What, me in pain?_ He scowled at her, but said nothing. She closed her eyes. "Your name. It's strange, but it sounds nice."

At that, the man's brows seemed to knit even closer together, his eyes wide with, for the record, surprise as he watched her. Well, the girl honestly didn't strike him as the babbling type. But after that comment, she had been doing just that. In truth, she didn't at all appear quite comfortable with it, either. Like she wasn't used to conversing in the first place. It was amusing, actually, how her one-sided conversation carried on from his name, to some strange fruit, to things even she didn't seem to comprehend. It was also amusing how awkward she looked through it all. Agitated, even, though it showed barely.

That was when he noticed… she was doing it to distract him. He must have looked in so much in agony that… she subtly began to try and take his mind off it. Grimmjow watched her from the corners of his eyes for a while, with that passive frown on his face, before closing his eyes again to block out the fresh stinging sensation of the antiseptics she poured into his wounds. Last time he remembered, these things weren't supposed to feel like anything at all. The human air was probably suffocating him, confusing him.

A sharp, throbbing sensation in his abdomen then caught his attention, and his large hand subconsciously went over it… and he just froze. Shizuka gave him a confused look, slightly pulling away her hands to give him way. His fingers ran over that spot idly for a while. It was… not empty. His Hollow hole was _gone_. His free hand reached up to the side of his face, and cringed at touching not hard bone, but a deep-set bruise on his jaw. Where his broken mask was supposed to be.

Alarmed, Shizuka quickly put down the medication and grabbed his hand in both of hers. She sternly warned him not to do that, but he barely heard her. His hands were big, and rough, and her small ones could only grasp his fingers. That wasn't enough to keep him from moving, but he stopped nevertheless. His mind was spinning, and his head was throbbing with blood.

_That_ was why he felt whole?

"I'm… human?" His small voice indicated that he had not meant to say it out loud, as it was more of a vocal thought. The confusion his blank face was not able to portray broke his voice enough to compensate. His eyes were wide but saw nothing. He didn't move but his whole body was trembling, ever so minutely, and violently at the same time. As if he was trying to control it.

It just couldn't be…

The girl beside him didn't speak for a few moments, and for a while had just stopped moving. She watched him, not knowing exactly how to react. So, with an inward sigh, she moved his hands away and resumed treatment. "You're alive," she said softly, "that's all that matters now." Her voice seemed to snap the man from his reverie, and for a brief moment he stared at her, before quickly looking away with a small grunt of incredulity. That was just it. He _wasn't_ supposed to _be_ alive. His confusion was quick to be buried under a rapidly brewing anger. Strange how much more hollow he felt now that he apparently wasn't.

Grimmjow was no idiot. There was nothing he could do, and he knew it. At least not as he was now. As much as he wanted to blame it all on the strange girl who claimed to have found him, as much as he wanted to murder her right then and there, to tear her limb from limb and break her… he just couldn't. He owed her, and right now, she was the only one he had any chance of getting answers from. He knew she knew something, but she herself didn't seem to know that at the moment. This was impossible, insane! The rage urged him to destroy something, anything, everything! But the madness of it all was tearing him up so much that he couldn't even do that. He was confused and angry. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He just didn't know anymore.

Of a few things, he was certain. There was no denying it.

He was human. He was broken. And he was screwed.

"Damn it," he muttered through gritted teeth, his clenched fists turning white against his knees. Shizuka stared at him idly in response, before mumbling a soft apology neither of them understood. After that, there was only the sound of the still pouring rain. As she finished dressing his wounds and wrapping him in fresh bandages, no words were shared between them.

Having finished treating him, she turned away to leave, this time with no interruptions. As she reached the door, her hand on the doorframe, she turned to him again. "I'll bring you something to eat." He looked up at her, his scowl saying more than words, but her eyes were directed towards the rain falling out the window, before she turned away again and spoke, her voice below a whisper. "… a little later."

Lightning cackled outside as she quickly stepped out of the room and left Grimmjow to himself again.

* * *

Shizuka was, to say the least, amazed at how the strange man had been able to go through with the treatment. She figured he'd be crying out in pain if not thrash about, like she believed most would, with the degree of damage he'd sustained. But he had remained almost passive the whole time. He looked more bored than anything, and she wouldn't have known otherwise if not for the sheen of sweat that dotted his flushed skin and the erratic, shallow rise and fall of his chest. In reality, she had a difficult time treating him. She'd had hard enough a time just watching him all those nights ago, not even sure if he was going to live or die through it. Now, she was just relieved to know she didn't have to worry about that anymore.

Even as she sat curled up against the back of his door, her head buried in her knees as thunder roared outside. There were no lights in the corridor, only the flashes of white from the space between the door and the black-carpeted floor. The girl jumped slightly, pressing her hands over her ears as the storm went on.

Did she hate the rain? No. She thought it was beautiful.

What she did hate was the lightning, and the thunder. The mere sound felt like a force thrusting through her very soul, and it scared her. It always gave her nightmares. Of blood. Of bones. Of madness and power. And of emptiness. Nightmares that forced her to stay awake when the rest of the world slept. While the strange, rather violent man behind the door had slept.

Only now did she realize that he was part of her nightmares, as well.

But now he was awake. Unfortunately, that only made things more complicated for the both of them. His question still lingered in her mind as she sat there, and it tormented her that she didn't have an answer to it even now. Literally. Her head felt like it was about to explode with the pressure, and though she made no sound, all she wanted to do was scream. Where _had_ she found him? She didn't know. She just did. But she knew she had to know if she wanted the pain to go away.

Then again, why had she helped him in the first place?

Though they were complete strangers to each other, she felt like she knew him. And he was still broken. She opened her crimson eyes then, staring at the black carpet beneath her feet, then at the blank white wall across her. This was… no time to curl up in a ball and tremble because of her selfish fears. He was the one that was hurt, not her. She had no right. He was the one who needed fixing, not her. With a resigned sigh, her passive expression resurfaced, and she pushed herself up from the floor.

She had things to do. And she still had a whole day ahead of her.

"Oh. So he's alive, after all." The room was lightless, lifeless, and cold. The deep, masculine voice was menacing on its own. And though his words spoke of relief, his tone bore none but ominous intent. One could almost see that mad grin on his unseen features. "How… interesting."

* * *

Author's Notes:

Hurray for anonymous strangers watching everything unfold from afar! … Hold on. That sounds like… well… us.

This is more like a creepy, disembodied voice though, ne? Gasp! Who could he be? xD

Man, I seriously didn't know how to end this chapter. Still figuring out where to insert the right scenes here and there, so I'm really sorry if it's all messed up. I'm sort of confusing myself here, so I think I _might_ negate the stuff I said in just the previous A/N before this one. I'm excited for a little action, but I just haven't decided when to put that in yet. xD

Anyway, to all my reviewers, thank you all so much! I'm sincerely glad you all feel that way. I'm really sorry about that thing with Aizen, by the way. I reread it, and it did look kind of silly. I don't have a beta, so thank you, DarkPhoenixSlash, for letting me know. I've fixed it, and I hope it's somewhat better now. If anyone catches sight of similar mistakes on my part, please let me know. I'll be glad to fix things for my readers. And don't worry, I've got a lot in store for Shizuka's character, so keep your eyes peeled!

Hope I'm not disappointing everyone thus far. Rate and review, thanks a bunch for reading!

Your authoress,

Ujon Nocturne


	4. 3: Stubborn

**Manifest**

by **Ujon Nocturne**

Disclaimer: Bleach and all things related to it found here are owned by Kubo Tite. Any similarities with other creations are unintended and purely coincidental. Plot line, original characters, and everything else non-canonical belongs to me.

* * *

Manifest © Ujon 2oo9 - 01/31/09

* * *

Chapter Three | Stubborn

The Espada were powerful, but expendable. As were all other arrancar beneath them. To their creator, they were nothing more than tools that once they lost their use to him, they would quickly and definitely be disposed of. Everyone knew this, but nobody complained. If that was their worth to him, then they would prove it as much as they could, for as long as they could.

That was the life of an arrancar.

And their lives all belonged to that man. Their purpose was to serve him. Their obedience was infallible. Their loyalty was undying. He was the one who gave them their forms, their new life. He was the one that gave them their strength. He was beautiful and he was powerful. He was wise and all-knowing.

He was their god.

"But even for a god," that same, cold voice said again, a chuckle in his tone, "he sure can be quite… ignorant."

The unidentified man stood casually against the glass wall of the shop, his face hidden beneath his black felt hat and behind the long collar of his coat. The rain fell around him while he stood comfortably dry underneath the establishment's little roof. The indistinct bustle of an average day in the city played in the background while swift crowds and figures rushed past him.

This city was always a busy one. Everything was alive even under this sky, this troublesome, rainy weather. Some lights were on early because it was relatively dark, and it was actually quite beautiful during the night. Tall buildings and elegant skyscrapers towered all around, colorful signs and letters glowing against the haze. There were always notable faces wherever you looked. And odd-colored hairstyles didn't normally stand out. Brilliant, creative, and vibrant. That was how this place was.

And yet amidst all this, his attention was reserved solely for the pale, lilac blot past the crowd and the cars and all the city bustle. Her pretty little face and her vibrant crimson eyes that were so obviously out of place. The innocence in her eyes enraged him. It disgusted him. It gave him the distinct desire to destroy.

But he would not. Not her. No, he would wait. He would learn. He would watch things play out.

He would watch and know that which even this supposed _god_ wasn't aware of.

This thought made him smile. He then pulled out a phone from his pocket, flipped it open and began busying himself with the device, the glowing screen reflected against the glassy surface of his eyes as his long fingers professionally moved over the pad. Yes, he would make sure things play out well for now. And when the time came, he would make his move. He clapped the phone shut, returning his attention to the girl's figure as she quickly disappeared into the crowd.

He would merely see how things would play out from here.

* * *

Shizuka, with her umbrella in one hand and a brown paper bag in the crook of her arm, travelled through the busy streets of the city district in complete silence. Well, wasn't she one so true to her name. It was a short walk into the busy district, she spent little time to collect what she needed, and she had arrived back home in only a short while. Though she usually let her mind wander (and that she did), she made it a habit to finish things as quickly and as efficiently as possible.

Truth be told, she was afraid of making tasks last too long. Whatever was the reason, even she did not comprehend. She just knew that whatever had to be done should be done fast as could be.

Her eyes rolled up towards the soft drum-drumming of the rain against her transparent umbrella, the little teardrops like crystal dotted across the surface. The weather seemed like it didn't plan on being too harsh on her at the moment, although the mist still remained, the heavy downpour had turned into a light drizzle now. It was quiet where she lived, and there were rarely any people walking out in contrast to where she'd just been. It was quiet, but not in a lonely sense. It was all rather peaceful, and she liked it.

She found it odd, though, all this rain in the winter. But as for right now, she was just relieved. It was refreshing, this rain. Especially after all her nightmares. Of dryness, lifelessness, and blood. It was hard to push those images out of her head, but the water all around her, pouring from the heavens above her—it was as if they washed it all away. She breathed in the watery scent, one she knew she would grow to love, and continued to listen to its quiet lullaby. Without all the lightning and the thunder, it was almost perfect.

But she hadn't any time to waste. She had responsibilities to attend to. She wasn't very far now.

With a small, inward sigh, she set off again, heading home.

Oblivious to the brilliant eyes in the dark watching her all throughout her small journey.

* * *

It was going to take a while for Grimmjow to heal. He had, after all, sustained massive wounds that would normally kill a man in an instant. And yet, the girl that had decided to treat said wounds never once asked how exactly he had come across them. It was normal to wonder, and it wasn't wrong to ask. But she never spoke of them the whole time he was in her custody.

And for that, the man was thankful.

Although, he was rather bothered by how hard she was staring at him. He could feel her heavy gaze on his shoulders though she sat quietly and quite unnoticeably on the couch across the room. Beside him, atop the bedside table, was a tray with a steaming bowl of soup, a jug of ice cold water, a little dish with cold cut fruit, a cup of what looked to be weird and sweet stuff, a disturbingly colorful platter of sushi, and a small pot of tea with a little cup beside it. He glared pointedly at the tiny teacup in the corner. It reminded him of Las Noches, and given his current situation, he didn't really want to be at the moment.

It had been a few days already, and things weren't improving between them. They hadn't spoken a word since she left the room after his first treatment, and he'd barely acknowledged her presence since. She wasn't going to have that. His health was declining, even if he didn't admit it. She could see it clear in his eyes, no matter how tough he appeared outwardly. And him acting as he was now wasn't doing him any good.

With an inward sigh, Shizuka closed her eyes. "You must eat," she reminded him quietly, peacefully taking a sip from her own cup. Receiving no response, she placed her tea on her lap and greeted the man's glare with her unwavering gaze. "You need your strength back." Her tone was matter-of-factly, and he knew she was right. But he still couldn't swallow the fact that he was human, let alone some terrestrial garbage. Even if… it smelled… kind of good.

Grimmjow sneered at the nicely arranged meal, and she saw this. "You are being stubborn." If she was agitated, it barely showed. Still no response. At this point, the odd young lady stood and set her drink down on the glass coffee table before her. Within moments, she stood before him, her attention on his untouched food. She glanced at him once, her eyes as impassive as ever, and then she leaned over slightly and picked up a piece from the sushi plate and turned to him. He scowled at her, and opened his mouth to bark something rude at her again when he felt something get pushed into his mouth.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise while his eyes rolled down to see the girl's hand over his lips. He could slightly recognize the nostalgic taste of rice and seaweed in his mouth, and he stared at her. But her attention remained on her hand, and it stayed there for a while.

"Eat," she repeated, pulling her fingers away and instead looking straight up at him. They both remained still a few moments, when he noticed her eyes narrow slightly. "Please."

Again, as he looked into her blood red orbs, he found something in there that he couldn't quite understand. It bothered him. But she was pleading, and she had only his well-being in mind. But hell, he didn't need taking care of! He didn't _want_ any of this. Every man for himself, he'd been living loyal to that code for too long to just—!

…Although, he had to admit, he _was_ being stubborn. For days now, the girl had been coming into his room to serve him food that he never once touched. Most of the time, he'd turn over to his side and pretend to be asleep before she came in, and when she left, he'd lay on his back and glare at the food by his bed with the intensity of one of his ceros, as if he could blast it all away.

This time, however, she caught him.

_

* * *

Rather, it was he who caught her. When he turned on his back for another glaring session with his unwanted meal, his eyes instead fell upon the out-of-place form just past it. Kiyoi Shizuka. Fallen asleep on the large, white couch across the room, her head rested against her folded hands, her face more peaceful without her emotionless mask. At least for a few moments. It was as if she was in pain majority of the time, and though it somewhat bothered him, he didn't look away._

_He watched her for a while. Watched her sleep until she eventually stirred, opened her eyes and greeted his gaze. Perhaps lasting a few moments longer than it should have. The moment she realized he was really awake (and that she was, as well), she sat up, rubbed her eyes with the heel of her fist and stood to take his tray. No words were shared between them, like always, as she turned and left the room._

_And so with no food to glare at, he diverted his attention towards the ceiling. There was nothing particularly interesting about it, but it had his attention. While small sounds the girl made in the kitchen played softly at the back of his mind. He anticipated her return not too soon after, but he was relatively surprised when she came back with a _bigger_ tray with _more_ food._

None of which is getting anywhere near me.

_As if in response, his stomach began to growl angrily in protest, and he could've sworn he'd just seen the girl glare accusingly at him. He was sure by then that she wouldn't be going anywhere until she was sure._

* * *

And she hadn't left.

Shizuka stared at Grimmjow as he sat there, stupefied, for the record, at her sudden bluntness. He'd have left the piece of food sit in his mouth, too, weren't it for her _subtle_ reminder. The girl began waving her hand in front of his face, then with her fingers, gestured lightly towards her lips. He glared at her now, but unable to growl, he had instead begun to chew.

For a moment, the girl's eyes widened by a fraction, and she suddenly closed her eyes and turned away.

_What?_ he wanted to ask. Yell, perhaps, in his case was more suited. He didn't. And she said nothing either. The flavor in his mouth was incredibly distracting, as he not soon found. And after swallowing the first piece, his stomach began growling louder for more. He scowled at it, but helplessly found his attention rolling over to the plate of food beside him, the scent stronger now, quicker to overpower his senses.

Shizuka retuned her attention to the man and his uneasy demeanor, her eyes briefly trailing down on the bandages around is arms and hands. Then her attention fell on the right side of his face, before her ruby red orbs fell downcast. He was injured there. Badly. She couldn't see how she could have missed that.

"I'm sorry," she whispered under her breath, folding her hands on her lap. "I wasn't thinking."

For the first time, he saw the girl with a forlorn expression. Like she just realized she'd kicked her favorite kitten into the rain. It made him uneasy. He growled, demanding an answer impatiently.

"Your jaw."

Ah. The bruise left by the remnants of his mask. It felt as if it had been torn off, and it still hurt now. It seemed as if it wouldn't heal, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. She was worried about it? No, she was worried about him in general. But so what? He'd been thinking it since the beginning, but this girl worried about him too much for comfort.

But could he blame her? She'd just successfully revived him from, no doubt, the brink of death for no apparent reason. He owed her a lot, and he wasn't very happy about that little fact. And yet in the little time he spent with her after awakening, all he did in return for her kindness was generally shout, glare and scowl at her. She never complained though. A few days ago, he could barely move. Before that, he couldn't even speak. She'd been there to see him that way, to which he didn't react very kindly, but she made certain he didn't push himself too far on both occasions. Just now, she let herself fall asleep in his room, wanting to be sure he ate his food and got his strength back. For what? So the food wouldn't go to waste anymore? No. After everything he's learned about her so far, that simply didn't fit the bill. He knew why. He knew it was so that he wouldn't shrivel up from the hunger.

… And so that he wouldn't die again.

She'd been selfless and patient with him the whole time, and right now she was probably berating herself for _hurting _his bruised jaw. It was irrational, but he could get where she was coming from. _Damn it. _He, being Hollow once, ought to know what hunger could do to someone. The man mentally scowled at what he was about to do.

"Give it here," he said gruffly, holding out a bandaged hand in her direction. The girl was relatively surprised at this, but was nevertheless relieved. This was the first time he'd spoken since the last time, and to hear his voice again somewhat startled her. Still, she merely shook her head, her grasp tightening over the folds of her skirt while her eyes remained set on his wounds. He easily noticed this and grit his teeth, annoyed. "I'm fine," he growled, his voice rough, gesturing for the food with his fingers. "Give it here."

She looked at him for a few moments, a slight frown marred on her forehead, one that would be quite unnoticeable unless you were used to her vacant face all the time. She was begging again. "Please, let me." Her voice was small, and still apologetic. She knew he didn't like being treated this way. She could see it in his expression, and generally how he'd been acting since he woke up. But she kept at it, wanting only what was best.

And _he_ was being stubborn?

"Tch." He bared his teeth in a scowl and looked away, grumbling in defeat. "Whatever."

With a thankful nod at his consent, Shizuka picked up a pair of chopsticks from the tray and reached for the sushi plate. Placing the plate on her lap, she began to feed Grimmjow as carefully as she could. Though he wasn't very eager to participate, he took the food she gave him without protest. He rather enjoyed it, the food, though he'd never admit, but the girl already knew nevertheless.

In days to come, she'd be serving him sashimi and maki and fillets and even fishcakes. And it wouldn't take long for him to notice the pattern. The moment he'd regained his ability to stand, to walk, he'd be able to spy on her as she made a disaster out of trying to make ice cream with fish in it in the kitchen. But he wouldn't complain. If that was her way of secretly trying to (needlessly) apologize, then so be it. She was subtle, and though her methods were weird, she at least tried to make him feel better. She knew he was still torn up about his waking realization. About being human. She never asked why, but she knew it bothered him, and that was enough for her.

And for that, she had his respect.

* * *

It was nighttime and it was dark. Urahara Shoten was void of it usual vibrant noises as all was expected to be asleep at this late hour. Only the soft, indistinct creaking of wooden boards resonated in the empty halls, followed by a muted hush of sliding Shoji screens, the distinct silhouette tiptoeing across the hall.

"You're past curfew," came a low, dangerous voice from behind, a pair of glowing golden eyes glaring at the stealthy figure from the shadows. The familiar female voice froze the sneaky culprit in place, and the woman noted this behavior with scrutinizing eyes. "Where've you been, Kisuke?"

The man pulled himself upright, a hand to his hat as he slowly turned around. "My, my," he began carefully, one hand hidden beneath the sleeve of his garments. In one quick movement, he was fully facing the expect woman with his fan covering half his face, his voice at its usual lively pitch. "If it isn't Yoruichi! What are you doing up so late? You should be having your beauty sleep," at this he snapped his fan shut, pointing it at her, "staying up is bad for your complexion!"

The woman frowned, folding her arms across her chest. "Kisuke."

He yawned exaggeratedly, stretching his arms in the air and turning away. "Come to think of it, I should be going off to bed myself. I'm quite tired."

A nerve popped on her forehead, and she closed her eyes. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Preparing for bed?" His voice all innocent, not once returning his attention to her.

She glared at him now. "You know what I mean."

Slowly, he began creeping away, disappearing into the open shoji doors."Goodnight, Yoruichi!"

"Kisuke!"

But he was already gone. She sighed.

* * *

Author's Notes:

I HATE WRITER'S BLOCK!

…And we're down to the third chapter. Awesome. Really sorry for the late update, and thanks again for the reviews.

Uh, yeah. I'm sure I'm not the only one who's fantasized about feeding Grimm-chan, right? Of course the kitty likes the fishy! Dang, that was fun. And I sort of wanted something a little light-hearted at the end, so yeah. In any case, you can expect a little action in the chapters to come, so stick around! And keep 'em reviews comin, ne? They really keep me going, 'cause I want only the best for my readers.

Yup, thanks again for reading! Rate and review, please.

Your authoress,

Ujon Nocturne


	5. 4: Insomnia

**Manifest**

by **Ujon Nocturne**

Disclaimer: Bleach and all things related to it found here are owned by Kubo Tite. Any similarities with other creations are unintended and purely coincidental. Plot line, original characters, and everything else non-canonical belongs to me.

* * *

Manifest © Ujon 2oo9 - 01/31/09

* * *

Author's Notes:

_Please excuse me a minute as I just.. ah... __**ahaha**_**.**

**No way. Kubo. Just. Made. This. CANON.**

Well, sorta. _Shoot, that means this isn't my idea anymore?_

Man, I seriously stopped breathing for a minute when I saw the new chapter. Aizen just announced the conscience of the Hogyouku exists! (**edit: w**ell, it was new when I was first writing this). I suppose you could say that's my way of squealing up and down in complete and utter joy. Looks like Kubo and I had the same idea after all, but would you say I had a head start? Either way, you could say that I'm really happy right now for some reason and I'm determined to continue this fic. It has been a while (**edit: **reaaally long while), but I'm back.

So without further ado, I give you the fourth chapter.

* * *

Chapter Four | Insomnia

_CLANG._

"Oi, woman." The man's by now familiar husky voice rang into the night, sounding completely awake. His electric blue hair stood out quite easily in the basically stark white abode, and he just stood there by the doorway with his bandages a constant reminder of his condition peeking from under his shirt, his arms across his chest in a reprimanding stance. He narrowed his eyes at the girl. "What are you doing down here?"

Shizuka turned her gaze down over her shoulder, her hands still reaching up into the cupboards as she stood on tiptoe—basically caught red-handed after making a mess of all the pans and pots on the floor. Both feet planted firmly on the floor, both her hands grasping at whatever she'd taken, she stared at him a moment with that same apathetic look in her crimson eyes. The clutter seemed all but forgotten as she gave her answer in that same monotone manner. "This is my house." That she seemed unconcerned didn't help any.

Grimmjow suppressed his irritation and returned her gaze evenly. "Answer the question."

She turned away from him and walked over to the fridge, pulling the door open and letting its light burst into the room. "Thirsty."

The man criticized the mess of metal the girl had left on the floor quietly. Meanwhile, she listened to the man's footsteps as he approached. She could hear him picking up the metal wares from the tiled floor, imagining how easily he would be replacing them back up into the cupboards she still had trouble reaching alone. She was startled, however, when he spoke. And she realized he was right behind her. His voice was low, controlled. "What?"

Shizuka was still for a moment, before she collected herself and replied. "I'm thirsty." She didn't exactly feel the need to explain herself; that much was obvious from the way she spoke. Then again, that was how she always spoke. With Grimmjow holding the door open from behind her, she reached into the fridge, not even turning to him. "I was just getting some milk."

He grunted, unconvinced. "It's friggin' three in the morning." And at the moment he said this, he easily snatched the bottle from her hands. Closing the fridge, she looked up at him, frowning, and could only watch as the man himself drank the contents of the container. Shizuka was dismayed, but at least he didn't finish it all in one go—_like he did last time, about five or ten times._ She'd had to lug back a weeks worth of milk from the grocery store on her last trip because of him. And though she never complained, she wasn't particularly used to carrying such heavy things at that kind of distance. That she was upset at the memory seemed obvious enough as Grimmjow peered down at her. Quietly, he put the bottle aside and just watched her expectantly.

The girl looked away, her crimson eyes slightly downcast. It wasn't like that was the only thing bothering her. Not tonight. And though she'd avoid letting him see that, she was aware that the man was already too keen to miss these things. He wanted to know why she was down here. She gave him her reason. He didn't have to voice it to say he didn't believe her. And so he waited. He watched her, the demand in his eyes. Shameful as it was, she couldn't withstand the weight. She walked around him and moved towards the kitchen counter to get herself the glass she'd gone all that trouble to... reach. "I can't sleep."

"Don't give me that." Grimmjow's voice wasn't accusing; he was certain. She hadn't slept at all. He knew it. And she knew he did. Despite this, Shizuka didn't say anything. She didn't turn to meet his eye like she usually would either, and this only irritated Grimmjow even more. "Don't be an idiot, woman." He wore his usual scowl as he spoke, but his voice was not harsh. "Go to sleep."

Shizuka stood firm, her fingers slipping off the glass as she placed it back on the counter. "No." _Wha—? _The man's eyes widened by a fraction, obviously startled by the uncharacteristic reply. The girl turned her head to the side, but her eyes, beneath the platinum of her hair, eluded him. She parted her lips. "I don't want to." A nerve popped on the man's forehead, and she started to leave. She didn't once turn back to acknowledge him again. "I won't." _That's it. _Grimmjow gritted his teeth. The urge to break something practically ate at his very bones, but he just watched as she disappeared beyond the doorway, her little steps quiet as she turned down the hall. As much as he owed the girl, she was just _so damn stubborn_.

She hadn't been this way before, but her attitude had steadily begun changing. For a while now, too, that even he would notice. It was for the worse. He didn't like it one bit. But he couldn't exactly blame the girl. And he couldn't do anything about it either. The blue-haired man grunted a curse to himself, shoving his hands into his pockets, taking a deep breath and following after her.

* * *

It started a few nights ago.

_Shizuka woke up from bed, screaming her heart out with her hands pressed hard against the sides of her head. Blood. There was so much blood. Her room was dark, and she could tell that it was only a few hours after midnight. Swiftly, she pushed her sheets off of her and bolted off the bed, pulling her door open in an uncharacteristically violent manner. She continued running down the halls thoughtlessly, her feet making muffled thumping sounds across the carpet. But she suddenly stopped as her hands wrapped around the silver doorknob, she finally noticed the tears running down her face, and she realized what she was doing._

_On that account, she realized even she didn't know what she was doing._

"_Grimm…jow…?" Her already small voice was even smaller now, as the tears in her eyes continued to blur her vision. Drops of moisture rolled down her cheek and dripped to her quivering hands beneath. She closed her eyes momentarily, her fingers slowly grasping the knob tighter, her muscles slightly tense as she just stood there. Wordlessly, she continued to tell herself that it was all just a dream, wiping the tears away with the heels of her wrists. It was all just a very disturbingly vivid, violent, bloody, alarmingly familiar dream. None of it was real. He was safe. He was here, alive, with her. It was all just one long, horrible nightmare._

_But that didn't change the fact that it scared the living lights out of her._

_With a hesitant gulp, Shizuka opened her eyes and twisted the knob, gently pushing the door open. A chill breeze greeted her, like a soft kiss to her face, before she was met by the peaceful scene of a dim-lit room bathed in moonlight, onyx drapes fluttering lightly in the midnight air. There was no rain tonight. There were no clouds. Only the stars and the wind and the moon in the velvet night sky. She took one step into the room, any sound muffled by the plush carpet at her feet, as her head popped through the small opening timidly while her hands on the door held her weight. "Grimmjow," she whispered meekly, "are you awake?"_

_At first, there was silence. And then, a slight shuffle of sheets. Finally, his low, controlled voice. "What do you want?"_

_The girl stared at his figure for a while, her brilliant ruby eyes carefully studying his face. Though there was a heavy crease between his brows, that ever-lasting scowl, he appeared rather peaceful. He was less vulnerable now than he was a few weeks ago, but he still wasn't healed completely. Nevertheless, she knew he was fine. There had been nothing to worry about from the start. With an inward sigh of content, she shook her head, though his closed eyes forbade him to see. She hadn't realized she'd ventured a few steps into the room already, no longer behind her hiding-place of a door. "Nothing," she whispered quietly, turning away slowly. "Please, forgive me." _

"_Oi." She stopped midway, then pulled back and turned her head to look at his silhouette against the moonlight. He was seated upright on his bed, his large form outlined in a silvery glow, his unruly electric-blue hair alight with the moon. His features were hidden in his shadow, but what he wore on his shadowed expression she could hear in his voice. "I said what do you want?"_

_She clenched her fists. "Nothing," she insisted sternly, her words now toneless. "I apologize for bothering you." She began pulling the door closed. "Good night."_

_Like he'd fall for that now. He had to resist rolling his eyes. "You were screaming."_

_At that, her heart skipped a beat, and she froze. He'd heard her? It was that loud? "This wasn't the first time." Now her heart threatened to burst. She was lead to believe he was a heavy sleeper, because he was most of the time. She dreaded the mere memory of her nightly terrors. But now that he was there to confirm it, it only made them real. So she stood there for a while, her big red eyes swimming in shame, and yet at the same time, they were almost blank. What inner turmoil she was cooking for herself in that hard head of hers, Grimmjow could only imagine, and he narrowed his eyes._

"_Oi." The sound of the man's voice brought Shizuka back from her thoughts, as if reminding her of his presence. "What was it?"_

_She immediately snapped out of her little reverie, her eyes slightly crinkled with unease. _Nightmare,_ she wanted to say, but she bit her tongue. She didn't want to concern him about trivial matters, and this was trivial, so she wouldn't. "It is of no importance," she said instead._

"_Tell me what it was." His demand came in a low, dangerous voice that they both knew she could not ignore. Ashamed, the girl turned her head down to one side, unable to look at even his form. Yes, she had proven herself to be quiet a stubborn girl. But she knew when she'd already lost, and there was no more point in fighting it._

"_I had a bad dream." The man did not show any signs of surprise, and had just turned to face the window, though she could properly glimpse his features now. She looked up at him, noted how much more stoic and cold he looked, and so she turned her eyes to the floor. Her soft voice, she forced to harden, swallowing back the uneasy feeling building from within her. The fear, the pain, but not the memory._

"_You were in it."_

_

* * *

She didn't tell him anything else after that. But he didn't press any further. The girl had stood there a while, and she stared at him, at his silhouette, in his eyes that looked at nothing. And without uttering a word, she simply turned away and walked out the door behind her. _

_Shizuka didn't sleep in any of the nights that followed. Grimmjow had been subtly aware of her moving around the house in the wee hours of the morning; and he didn't exactly feel like falling asleep either. However, exhaustion easily took hold of his still healing body. There were still many wounds that needed mending. At least while he was in that state, he didn't exactly have complete control over it._

_Things stayed relatively the same otherwise. Whenever he woke up, his meals would be prepared on the glass table in the middle of the room for him. The only thing different was the fact that, well, the girl didn't wake up waiting for him to eat anymore. She'd just laid there, asleep, across the room from him. And she'd usually wake up when the sun was already down. _

_She rarely spoke at all after that night. Steadily, the girl had turned into something like a machine. Having come from where he had, it wasn't exactly something the man could be appreciative of._

_In fact,_

It was getting on Grimmjow's nerves.

* * *

"Where do you think you're going?" Grimmjow growled, his eyes on the girl's form as she stood by the door, slipping her arms into a black coat and picking up an umbrella from against the wall. Shizuka didn't treat him any differently from earlier, and basically ignored him as she slipped into her boots and afterwards reached for the doorknob, pulling the door open. A cool breeze blew in. Snow danced lightly outside, and the open doorway didn't look so different from a frame to a pretty picture. The silver moonlight was bright against the snow. You could just imagine the platinum-haired girl disappearing into such a scene so easily. Were it not for her coat, that is.

"I'm going for a walk," she told him softly, stepping through as she opened her umbrella.

That was just it for Grimmjow. Was this girl stupid or what? He might not have been _alive _very long, but he at least knew that letting a girl walk the city streets all by herself in the dead of night was _still_ pretty much idiotic. With a grimace, he marched over. "Didn't you hear what I said earlier?" he hissed beneath his breath, reaching out and grasping her shoulder. "It's _three in the morning_." It was cold out, and his bandages wouldn't be enough to keep him warm outside under this weather, but his voice was firm. "You're not going out."

"I'm not a child," she answered, almost too quickly. Shizuka still didn't look at him, even as she gingerly pulled the man's bandaged hand off her shoulder. And she started walking away. "I can do as I like."

… That was it?

_That _was the reason—?

The man growled a low, dangerous growl. He's had just about enough of this ridiculous charade. He grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut. It was taking everything in his power to restrain himself from punching a hole in the wall. Or in this case, break every bone in his arm for just trying. Grunting, he slammed his hand against the doorframe and started towards the girl. "Oi, wo—!

He stopped, his eyes wide open as his whole body froze up on the spot.

Grimmjow stood by the foot of door, wide-eyed. _What the? _He couldn't believe what he was seeing. There were Hollows ripping into the living world's dimension. Here. _Now_. And they were doing so right above the red-eyed girl that was just… standing there.

Shizuka finally turned around, a slight frown in her eyes as she looked at the man, oblivious to the brewing danger literally hanging over her head. Her eyes were softened then, apologetic again. She was happy to see the man standing, walking, well. He looked stronger now. And she _was _happy to know that he wouldn't break so easily again. But she _was _ashamed that she'd have to cause him this kind of trouble over something so trivial now.

It had taken her a while to notice the alarm in his ever frequent frown or the unnerving tension in his presence. It was… different. Something was off. Her frown shifted slightly, and her eyes narrowed in confusion. Only then did she realize that the man wasn't even looking at _her_, so she followed his gaze.

No way.

She didn't see it. She didn't hear it. She didn't feel the pressure of its mere presence even as it drew back a clawed arm, poised to strike. The hollow preparing to end her life right then and there. It roared, and though she didn't hear it, she faintly heard the sound of Grimmjow's coarse voice echoing at the back of her skull as she turned her eyes back to what she vaguely registered to be a shock of blue charging swiftly right at her. The faint sound of an empty roar; the distinct clatter of her umbrella against the ground. Time seemed to slow for a moment as the large man's body crashed against her smaller frame, and for a few moments she could distinctly hear her heart and her _blood _pulsing loudly in her skull. Shizuka's eyes were open wide. She didn't understand what was happening, but the panic was apparently contagious. She could feel the man's heart hammering against his chest, and against her own.

But it wasn't as if she had time to ponder on this.

Not with the man howling in pain right beside her ear.

Not with the crimson rain painting the world before her eyes.

Grimmjow grimaced as he hit the ground, grinding his teeth together as he held the girl tighter against him, and he cursed beneath his breath. Shizuka couldn't see much, but she had been able to catch a glimpse of what no doubt was blood. _His_ blood. The rusty scent was familiar to her senses, but she wasn't exactly fond of it all the same. Pulled against the man's chest by his strong arms, there wasn't really much the young woman could do. She could only listen to the increasing labor to his breathing, and she didn't like it one bit. Unconsciously, her fingers grasped at the fabric of his shirt—and she froze for a minute as she felt the dampness of his blood—but in a voice as steady as she could muster, she spoke. "Grimm—?"

"—Shut up a minute." His voice was not harsh, nor was it kind. But it was enough to imply the need for alarm. Though perhaps the girl would not understand, he knew she'd do what he needed her to. Shizuka complied, not making another sound, her hold on his shirt just tightening. Was she scared? Yes. Why? Even she didn't know. But for now, that would be enough.

_Great._ Grimmjow had to be honest. He had been itching for a fight from the moment he woke up, but now that he was human, it was all rather pointless. This body was strong, but it wasn't strong enough. And as if that wasn't bad enough, it was damaged. Healing, sure, but still damaged. To be crippled by a blow from such a low-level hollow—him, Grimmjow Jeaguerjaques for kami's sake—was beyond humiliating.

The hollow howled again behind him, and the ex-Espada cursed for the nth time.

_

* * *

A click of a tongue resounded in the night, as a foreboding figure appeared before the duo's door. He saw what otherwise could not be seen and oh, he wasn't pleased. This man was not pleased at all, and yet, he found himself smiling._

How very nasty, that old man.

_It was that same. It was the watcher with that cold, lying presence. It carried in its words a certain familiarity to that of whom he spoke. And by the sound of his smile, there was no mistake about it—he was amused. A bit disappointed, perhaps, but amused nonetheless. _

_The stranger crossed his arms over his chest and shook his bowed head._

Pulling tricks like this on me now, is he?

_He laughed, a sinister but controlled laughter in the dark. He was decided. Raising a long sleeved arm into the air, a muted glint came alight against what were no doubt the razor-sharp tips of a lethal edge. One could almost see the malice in his menacing grin as he brought the blade down against the door… and a light burst before his eyes. An ethereal, violet glow roared—a mute scream against his form—sending his short, colorless hair flying in wisps about his head beneath the light of the moon._

_He stepped back, bringing the deadly blade to his lips, and with a smile he licked the trickling blood from its edge._

That'll show him.

_Then, with a somewhat disappointed sigh, he turned on his heel and began walking. When he stopped midway, and turned his gaze over his shoulder towards the door. A frown lined his lips, but it was not grave so much as it was upset. Normally, one would expect much more from _him_. The male grinned, and with a nonchalant shrug to himself, started to leave. _

_Each step, each sound, each click of his heels against the ground… there came with the ominous echo of a rip, of a groan, of a tear in the fabric of reality. The light of the moon glowed about his contours, until a thick darkness weighted around his form, and the man was swallowed by the unearthly howls of the night._

_And in its wake, the scream of a girl._

* * *

That night, her nightmare, that sound that woke Grimmjow way before Shizuka had begun screaming. He'd heard it. It was too familiar to him to not recognize it. _Hollows._ He'd known what it meant, but he didn't want to believe it then. He'd also known that there would be no avoiding it.

That they'd been targeted. And that they'd been found.

* * *

Author's Notes:

And from here I hope to get the plot back on track.

I am so terribly sorry it took this long for the update! You guys are awesome and you deserve so much better. I promise, I will make it up to you guys soon. Besides, this fic is too important to me for me to abandon it. Just needed some time and a little space, I guess… what with all that's happening in the manga. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this one, even if for only a little bit. I'll do my best to keep the chapters coming from here on out.

Oh, and about the sequence of events—really sorry if I'm confusing anyone. I hope what I've got is okay so far. I'll do everything I can to make it better in the next chapters, I promise!

To you guys that are still there, even after all this time, thank you so much.

If it's not too much to ask, please R&R?

Your authoress,

Ujon Nocturne


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